The Severus Snape Advent Calendar
by HappyAuriga
Summary: Just that. Get a bit of the story every day until Christmas.
1. 1

**December 1****st**

It was Saturday and luckily not a Hogsmeade one. It was one of the few free days Severus Snape, potions master at Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry, got during a school year. The headmaster himself had promised to take care of any problem that might arise with Slytherin House while their head teacher was away – there would be no problems or they would have to face Severus Snape in his wrath and by December even the first years knew better – and so the potions master apparated to London.

He rarely had time to indulge in shopping at Diagon Alley during the school year, so he made good use of his free day and went exactly there. He hadn´t been to the wizarding shopping street during the season in years. For a while he just enjoyed walking along, taking in the festive decorations and families doing their Christmas shopping.

There were only children under the age of eleven, for the older ones were conveniently locked away at Hogwarts and of the younger ones there were only a few due to the tradition of surprising offspring with their presents.

Snape watched a small blonde witch being dragged from window to window by two raven-haired brats of perhaps eight or nine and rejoiced once again in the fact that he had decided never to produce offspring at a young age.

When he had looked his fill of all the Christmas kitsch, he went to the apothecary´s to place his order for potions ingredients – a clever move as it made the trip a business one and Dumbledore owed him another free day.

After tricking the headmaster – he hoped he´d be able to take the additional day off on summer to go swimming somewhere nice at the seaside – he went to Fortescue´s. The icecream parlour served as a café during the season and Snape indulged in a cup of cocoa with a tiny dash of firewhisky.

His insides warmed pleasantly, the potions master decided to do his Christmas shopping. It would be easier here and now than later at Hogsmeade with several dozens of brats to chaperone at the same time. As he didn´t exchange gifts with many people, it was rather quick.

He purchased several books at Flourish and Blott´s. "Trick Charms" for Filius, "Feline Witches Through the Ages" for Minerva and "Caring for Hovering Hedges" for Pomona. Hidden between those he carried a photobook for Dumbledore. He blushed vigorously when the shop assistant smirked at him, but then it was worth the embarrassment. Dumbledore´s coming out had been THE revelation of the year and after seeing the first two pages of the book (he had snapped it closed then, his face flaming red) Snape was quite sure the headmaster was not going to make a remark about socks when he unwrapped "Wizards, Secrets Revealed".

He was just heading to the Leaky Cauldron for supper – eating without having to hear the babbling of five-hundred youths was going to be bliss – when he noted a small stall, where a tiny, grey-haired wizard with a beard rivaling Dumbledore´s sold boxes decorated in Christmassy patterns.

"What are those?" Snape asked curiously.

"I´m glad that you ask, Sir," said the vendor in a rich bass. "These are magical advent calendars. You have to close it over night and every morning you´ll find a small gift in it. You know that the gift is there when the date shows on the lid. See, this one hasn´t been opened on December, first, the gift is still inside."

"How much are they?" Snape asked despite himself. He usually wasn´t a fan of things like that, but one of the boxes was Slytherin green with silver snowflakes on it and the potions master had to admit it looked quite appealing.

"Five sickles, Sir," said the old man. "I´m selling them as special offers, for those I can´t sell today will be useless. They work only once, so there´s no point for me in keeping them for next year."

"Five sickles? That´s a bargain," answered Snape. "I´ll have the green one."

"Of course, Sir," the tiny wizard beamed. "Thank you and I hope you enjoy your calendar." He wrapped the box in brown paper.

Snape waited until he was in his chambers to open the box. There was a small chocolate bar in it. Mmmmh, milk chocolate with hazel nuts. His favourite.

Severus Snape sat by the fire with a book and enjoyed his evening. The chocolate was delicious.


	2. 2

**December 2****nd**

Sunday. The day to sleep in a bit, though not as long as Severus would have liked. As he had had a free day on Saturday, the deputy headmistress had apointed him with proctoring breakfast in the Great Hall. Hadn´t the witch been young herself, sometime in the (distant) past? Why didn´t she remember that people returned with potential hangovers after a free day? Not that Severus Snape ever did, but that didn´t mean that he was to be withheld the pleasures of a proper rest.

He snorted and pictured himself getting drunk on purpose just to force McGonagall to grant him a late start of duty the morning after a free day. As he couldn´t know when he´d be summoned by the Dark Lord, getting drunk was never an option but he liked the idea of surprising his former teacher.

After having a cup of coffee in his chambers – there was no way he was going to face the brats without a dose of caffeine – the potions master made his way up to the Great Hall exactly five minutes before breakfast was served.

There were only few students present at the ungodly hour. Unfortunately Dumbledore´s Golden Boy, Harry Potter, and the Malfoy heir were both early birds.

Potter looked tousled and tired. Snape wondered whether the boy had suffered one of those nightmares again and whether Madam Pomfrey´s stocks of Dreamless Sleep Potion needed replenishing. Malfoy on the other hand looked as neat as a pin.

"Did your own bed kick you out?" Malfoy sneered at Potter from the Slytherin table. "You look like your duvet couldn´t stand you any longer and got rid of you." He smirked and his everpresent cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, snickered.

"Watch your mouth, Malfoy," Potter retorted half-heartedly. "at least I have a bed of my own and don´t need to share with sycophants." Snape thought it was a strange remark from the Boy Wonder who without a doubt could have his bed filled to the brim with sycophants if he were willing to let them.

Malfoy´s face contorted with fury and he drew his wand.

Snape cleared his throat noisily and glared at the two hotspurs in turn. Potter fidgeted nervously in his seat and turned his attention to his breakfast of scrambled eggs and fried bacon. He murmured to his friends, the redhead and the Granger-girl, under his breath. Snape wondered what he was saying, but decided that a student wasn´t worth the effort of a eavesdropping charm.

Malfoy glared at the Gryffindor trio while he sipped a cup of tea.

The potions master found it amusing how the two boys resembled each other but still were like day and night. Each had a faithful retinue of two. But as Potter was dark where Malfoy was fair – oh, sweet irony of faith that the light one was dark and the dark one was light – he went for brains where Malfoy went for physical power. That was, if you gave the Weasley boy the credits of possessing brains, which Snape was willing to do for symmetry´s sake.

A little later Filius Flitwick joined Snape at the Head Table. They had a lenghty conversation about the merrits of Cheering Charms over Beatus Beati, the Happiness Potion. Snape couldn´t see any. True, Cheering Charms were quicker, but then nothing could go wrong once you had the potion brewed properly, whilst you could overdo a cheering charm and make the target person hysteric by mistake. And, Snape pointed out, brewing Beatus Beati always made him very happy.

As lunchtime approached, Pomona Sprout took over in the Great Hall and the potions master was able to retreat to his quarters. Once there he opened his advent calendar box. In it he found what seemed to be a matchbox, but as soon as he lifted it out of its green container, it unshrank to the size of a shoe box.

It was a jigsaw puzzle.

Severus Snape cleared some space in front of the fireplace and spread the parts on the floor. He lay down on his belly in front of the hearth and started puzzling. It was a very relaxing experience. The picture he got when he was finished – which was shortly after dinner - was a rather naughty image of a blonde witch, who winked at him flirtatiously.

The potions master scrambled up from the floor and poured himself a glass of firewhisky. He positioned his armchair to give him a good view of the girl and spent the rest of the evening enjoying the blonde batting her eyelashes at him.


	3. 3

**December 3****rd**

Severus Snape hated Mondays. In fact it was his least favourite day of the week, which was partly due to the fact that he had to get up early because his first lesson started at eight thirty. In nearly twenty years of teaching he had never gotten the first period on Monday free. The second reason was that the first class of the week had always been a Gryffindor and Slytherin one from day one on.

This year was no exception, so the potions master stalked to his classroom with a cup of coffee in his hand and a yawn in his face at a quarter to eight. Normally he prepared the ingredients for his Monday classes on Sunday evening, but yesterday he had been occupied otherwise.

He decided to let the first years make an infusion of oak leaves. First of all they had messed up the infusion assignment two weeks earlier, so a little practice was in order, secondly, infusion of oak leaves was quite useful for several healing potions, prominent among them pepper-up, and most importantly, the task didn´t require many ingredients, so it was ideal for a short notice lesson.

The third years, he thought, were to clean up and sort the students´ ingredients cupboards, ideal for a class of Hufflepuffs as they were diligent workers.

The only problem was the double lesson with the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years. There was no way to teach a NEWT level class without much preparation. With a sigh Snape wrote off lunch.

The two morning classes went quite well, given the fact that Snape was nearly unprepared and took a sip of coffee every time he passed his desk. The first years were absorbed in their task within minutes and apart from a handful of salamander ears, which found their way into a Gryffindor cauldron from a Slytherin hand, everything was quiet. The cauldron exploded quite violently, but after having taught Neville Longbottom nothing but a nuclear meltdown was going to upset Snape in a class with Gryffindors. Points were taken for ineptitude and a detention with Filch was arranged. Of course the culprit went unpunished, Snape wouldn´t accuse one of his own house for acting Slytherin.

The lunch hour was spent with laying out ingredients for the seventh years. Snape had spent half of the third year class pondering on what to cover with them and had finally settled for Tempanimagium, a potion to give the drinker the ability to change into an animal for six hours. It was a quite complicated brew – thus part of the seventh year curriculum - but could nevertheless be finished within an hour if brewed properly. It wasn´t used very frequently, as the drinker couldn´t determine what animal they´d become and who wanted to end up an ant or a slow-worm? It wasn´t even that a person always became the same animal. (Thus the potion was quite popular as a party drug for some time in the eighties, but that ended when fifteen people were trampled by two unfortunate witches who changed into elephants.)

The Gryffindor/Slytherin NEWT class consisted of only five students. The Golden Trio, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. Snape explained how to brew the potion and warned the students to try it out in the dungeons.

"We´ll move up to the Entrance Hall when you finished your brews. There´s enough space if any of you changes into a big animal."

"Professor," cried the Granger-girl, "how are we to do our homework for tomorrow, if we change into animals for six hours?"

"Miss Granger, is this an attempt to tell me that you as a NEWT student are leaving your homework for the very last evening?" Snape smirked maliciously. Served her right if she hadn´t worked on the weekend.

The girl blushed and the two Slytherins snickered.

A bit more than an hour later, the five seventh years, each a vial of their brew in hand, and Snape stood in the Entrance Hall. At their teacher´s signal, the students downed the content of their vials. Snape was surprised to see that all five had succeeded with their brew.

The Granger girl changed into an owl amidst a puff of brownish smoke and flew through the doors into the Great Hall and up into the rafters.

Weasley, Malfoy and Parkinson changed into cats in puffs of red (Weasley) and green (the two Slytherins) smoke.

Potter´s place was empty seconds after he downed his potion but for a whisp of blue smoke.

Snape looked around to find him, the boy couldn´t have disappeared, he must have changed into something small.

In the end it was easy to find him. For (a) Snape felt a tickling running up his leg under his trousers and (b) he had three cats fighting over who was to get into his trouser-leg.

"Severus," the voice of the headmaster sounded unnaturally loud in the Entrance Hall, "kindly explain."

"I taught the seventh years how to brew Tempanimagium. It was a complete success, apart from Weasley, Malfoy and Parkinson" – he pointed at the cats as he gave their names – "are trying to eat Potter, who seems to be a mouse." He pointed at his left leg at large, blushing vigorously, all the while trying to stiffle giggles as Potter was tickling him.

"I see," Dumbledore smiled benignly. "You will, of course, take the boy to your chambers for his safety."

"Of course." He left the headmaster to deal with the cats and swept towards his quarters wrapping his robes around him in a feeble attempt to keep some of his dignity.

Once in his chambers he reached under his waistband to retrieve Potter. What was he to do with the boy for six long hours?

With a sigh he went to his bedside table to open his advent calendar. Perhaps there was something in it to entertain him while he waited for the brat to change back. With a malicious grin the potions master lifted a small cage out of the box. This calendar was too good to be true.

Snape spent the evening reading and sipping tea, while Potter paced within his confinement.


	4. 4

**December 4****th**

Hogwarts´ resident potions master woke with a grin on his face.

Potter´s embarrassment and his blush when he fled Snape´s quarter the very second he turned back into his normal self had been priceless.

Snape planned out his lessons over breakfast in front of his fireplace. He had the first period off on Tuesdays, so there was no need to hurry. After his meal he strolled to his classroom and set out the ingredients for a total of four classes, one in the morning and three in the afternoon, none of them double.

He even had time to go and open his advent calendar before the first class arrived. In the box lay what appeared to be a yellow bean. Snape put it into his pocket. He had never seen a similar bean before, so he decided to ask Pomona Sprout about it at lunch.

The morning class passed without event, but Snape slid his hand into his pocket from time to time to feel the mysterious bean.

"Severus! Where did you get one? I heard of them, but never actually saw one!" The herbology professor was beside herself. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement and her eyes glistened with curiousity.

"So what is it?" asked Snape, ignoring the question. He wouldn´t admit he had an advent calendar on his bedside table in a million years.

"What it is?" Sprout glared at him. "I´d be very much mistaken if it wasn´t a gely bean."

"A jelly bean?" Snape was confused. "What is so special about that? Muggles sell them in boxes and even Honeydukes has them in their program. Though I´ve been told they don´t sell well with Berty Bott´s competing product."

"Not a jelly bean," the witch said impatiently. "A gely bean. It produces blasting gelatine."

"Magical blasting gelatine?" Snape looked at his bean in awe. "That´s a really rare ingredient! I wasn´t aware it comes from a bean!"

"Actually it comes from the flowers," explained Sprout. "If you care for your plant properly, you should be able to produce a pint."

"A pint? Just think of the potions I could brew with a pint of blasting gelatine!" Snape looked as if Christmas had come early. "What do I have to do?"

"Well, that´s a bit tricky," Sprout admitted. "The bean needs good soil and only some drops of water. And song."

"Song?"

"Song," Sprout confirmed. "Gely beans grow extremely quickly. From planting it to collecting the gelatine it shouldn´t be more than three hours. But as I said, it needs song. You have to sing from planting it until you finished your harvest or the plant will die. Shall I prepare a pot of soil for you?"

"Yes, please." Snape was all anticipation.

The potions master, who wasn´t very fond of singing, spent his afternoon lessons plotting how to avoid the activity himself. That was why he ran into Potter on his way to dinner.

"Can´t you look where you´re going, boy?" he snapped. "Detention in my office after dinner. And bring your friends."

Potter looked bewildered, but Snape proceeded into the Great Hall, robes billowing dramatically, before the teenage hero could react.

An hour later, the Golden Trio entered Snape´s office.

"I´m going to offer you a unique opportunity to study a rare specimen," the potions master said without further preface. "It seemed reasonable to chose you as you´ll need every bit of magical education you can get to survive your upcoming battle against the Dark Lord." He paused to let the message sink in. "This is a rare magical plant. It needs song to grow and you will sing in exchange for the opportunity to witness its development firsthand. Stand in front of my desk."

The Gryffindors obeyed.

"As soon as I put the seed into the soil, you will start singing and don´t you dare pause before I signal you it´s safe."

The youths nodded and Snape planted the bean into the pot. Who´d have ever believed that Potter and Weasley were rich baritones and Granger a bell-like soprano? They sang Christmas carols and even apart from collecting three annual salaries´ worth of blasting gelatine, Snape enjoyed the evening a lot.

When he went to bed, he caught himself humming ´White Christmas´.


	5. 5

**December 5****th**

Snape opened his advent calendar box the first thing the next morning. What little treasure was awaiting him today?

It was a beautiful glass bottle. It had the form of an antique amphora, double handle and all, and glittered in several shades of blue, dependent on the angle the light fell on it. The potions master removed the glass stopper carefully and smelled the contents.

It was a bubble bath, scented with lavender and lemon.

Well, he couldn´t expect a spectacular gift like yesterday´s every day. Humming a Christmas song – his little Griffindor choir had been inspiring – he went to the bathroom and set the glass bottle on the tub´s rim. A nice bath in the evening certainly was going to do him good.

Snape had just started the day´s first lesson when the headmaster with Septima Vector in tow entered his classroom.

"Severus, if you please, a quick word," the old wizard said urgently and professor Vector walked up to the teacher´s desk to take over the class without waiting for a sign of consent from the potions master.

Snape followed the headmaster outside.

"It´s the merpeople, Severus," Dumbledore said without preamble. "I have been notified that they cought a bad bout of flu and with the lake at its lowest temperature of the year they won´t recover without help. They´re barely able to tend to their children and old. If we don´t act quickly, there will be dead."

"I see, headmaster," said Snape, "I shall start brewing immediately. As large amounts of potions will be needed, may I ask for some assistants?"

"Your NEWT class is waiting for you in your private lab."

The potions master set out for his lab without one further word. Who but Dumbledore was going to leave a bunch of inepts in a potions master´s sanctuary unsupervised?

Half an hour later the brewing was under way. Snape stood by a huge cauldron and stired the base of the potion while it was heated. The students were chopping and slicing, grinding and pounding ingredients. Malfoy was skinning shrivel-figs with a sour expression.

When the first potion was bubbling merrily, Snape handed the rod to Weasley and advised him how to stir. Then he started the next and then the next.

By suppertime – lunch was tea and sandwiches and they had to eat in shifts – they had produced barrels of pepper-up, febri-down and cough draught. Snape sent the students to the Great Hall after awarding each of them twenty points and levitated the barrels to the lakeside, where the headmaster and Hagrid were waiting for him.

"I explained what to do to the squid," Hagrid reassured the two wizards. He whistled and a little later the cephalopod made an appearance. The half-giant handed it Snape´s precious barrels and it disappeared in the icy water.

When an eerie whailing sounded from the middle of the lake half an hour later, the headmaster smiled and set out for the castle. "Thank you, Severus," he said as they approached the entrance, "you saved some lives today."

Snape acknowledged the thanks with a small nod. What was he to say? His back ached as did his arms and shoulders. Stiring huge amounts of potion was exhausting, but it couldn´t be done magically, for the results you got from stiring charms were inferior to what a master´s hand could do by far and the magic might interfere with the potion and make it useless.

At dinner Snape wished he could apply a hover charm to his fork to make it feed him. He could hardly hold it, not to mention his goblet, which was heavier by far. But, alas, his reputation would suffer and so it was out of question.

After a quick meal the potions master retreated to his quarters. He smiled tiredly when he remembered his advent calendar gift. A bubble bath was exactly what he needed.

He sighed comfortably when he sank into the warm water after applying a charm to the tub to keep the water warm for at least two hours.


	6. 6

**December 6****th**

"Dotty is bringing breakfast for Professor Snape," the smallest house elf Snape had ever seen beamed up at him when he glared out from under his pillow with bloodshot eyes. Merlin, it couldn´t be later than midnight, but then probably it was or the elf wouldn´t bring breakfast.

"The headmaster says Professor Snape is to take morning off," the elf continued. "Dotty will put the tray on the professor´s bedside table and put a warming charm on it. The professor can have another nap."

She took the small green box to make room for the breakfast tray.

"Give me this!" Snape groaned from under his pillow.

The house elf handed him the box obediently. A big red number six was on the lid. Snape waited for the elf to leave before he opened it, fumbling clumsily with the lid. He moved the box closer to his pillow hiding place to see better. Today´s gift was a tiny teddy bear.

The potions master yawned and sat up. He hadn´t owned a teddy in decades. Carefully he lifted it out of the box. It grew as soon as it had left its confinement and didn´t stop until it was as big as Snape´s pillow.

Snape grinned and ruffled the bear´s brown fur. He sat the stuffed toy on the pillow beside him and lifted the breakfast tray onto his lap. After a meal of buttered toast with strawberry jam and a cup of tea, he lay back down and snuggled up to his new teddy bear and fell asleep.

The elf returned half an hour before afternoon lessons started to wake him and bring lunch. The potions master found that he hadn´t slept so restfully in years.

The afternoon classes went uneventful except the last one, which was a double with the sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Snape set them tasks of making rose-hip paste, infusions of camomile and holly and various other basic concoctions he had used up in yesterday´s effort to save the merpeople. It should have been a quiet class. The tasks were easy enough, even the second years could have accomplished them, but Snape had prefered to lecture the younger years about the potions they had made for the merpeople and the special requirements of brewing on a large scale.

The lesson started harmless. Snape gave each student their assignment and the sixth years went to the storerooms to get the ingredients they needed. Things went awry when somebody – Snape suspected Tom Cumberland of Slytherin, but he wasn´t going to accuse his own house – threw some nutmegs into the Weasley-girl´s cauldron. Instead of saving her decoction by adding a pince of common pepper, the redheaded hotspur hexed half of the Slytherins present.

Snape had to admit that the girl was rather skilled at hexing and jinxing. Hadn´t she been the offspring of one of the worst blood-traitor families in Britain, she´d have been exactly what the Dark Lord was looking for for his ranks.

Cumberland stumbled back, hit by a bat-bogey hex and blinded by the flapping in front of his face. He knocked down Varrie´s cauldron, who couldn´t flee due to the jelly leg jinx he had suffered and therefore was soaked in boiling hot liquid. Snape hurried to apply cooling charms to spare him bad burns and as a result couldn´t stop Suffolk from tripping in the mess, who was trying to find her way blinded by her still growing eye brows.

Parker and Stephenson were trying to stop the boils popping into existance in their faces, but only made things worse.

The Gryffindors laughed, but only until Snape took hundred points from their house and gave the girl a week´s worth of detention with Filch. He ordered the unaffected Slytherins to help their housemates to the infirmary and informed the Gryffindors that they were to complete the Slytherins´ brews as a punishment for their cruel laughter when their fellow students were hurt.

The potions master returned to his chambers half an hour after curfew. He took a little pleasure in the fact that, unlike the students, he was able to order dinner from the house elves. After a quick meal he went to bed, into the waiting arms of his teddy bear.


	7. 7

**December 7****th**

Severus Snape nearly overslept the next day. There wasn´t even time for his morning dose of caffeine. As a result he was in a foul mood all morning. The fact that he was on duty in the Great Hall for lunch did nothing to improve it.

He went to the Hall right after shooing the last Hufflepuff out of his dungeon classroom, robes billowing behind him as ever. He snapped at students for putting their toe out of line at the smallest incident, such as coughing, laughing or in one Gryffindor´s case breathing.

He ordered a cup of coffee as a starter as soon as he collapsed into his chair at the head table. Pomona Sprout, who sat beside him, started as he growled his order to the table.

"Merlin, Severus," she hissed, "do you have to be so dramatic? I heard you´re the hero of the lake?"

Snape grunted into his cup. "And still not recovered from the effort," he said when he put down the cup.

"I see," said the herbologist, "I thought you look a bit under the weather."

The potions master didn´t grace the silly remark with an answer but ordered lasagna and ate in silence.

Due to his demonstration of bad mood all morning and on his way in, lunch was a quiet one. The students ate quickly and without much ado and left right after putting their spoon away.

"Severus," Minerva McGonagall took the seat Sprout had vacated merely moments before, "when your timetable says ´Proctor lunch´ it doesn´t mean ´Scare them out of the Hall before they even finished their meal´."

"I´ll try to keep it in mind," Snape snapped and helped himself to another spoonful of his dessert.

The afternoon passed equally dull as the morning had. The potions master entertained himself with taking vast amounts of house points for the slightest offence. He was aware that Dumbledore was going to find a way of giving them back unobstrusively. No student in their right mind was going to complain about getting points for ´breathing exceptionally regularly´ when they had lost those points for ´breathing too loud´.

Indeed, Dumbledore waited for him after his last class in front of the classroom. But the headmaster wasn´t there to award points for achievements rivalled in ridiculousness only by the reasons Snape had deduced points for minutes earlier.

"Severus," said the old wizard, ignoring the students who looked at him hopefully. "I have been notified that Merchieftainess Murcus wishes to speak to you. Will you kindly accompany me to the lake? I will gladly serve as translator."

Snape recognized an order even when it came disguised as a request and followed Dumbledore down to the lakeside.

The Merchieftainess waited for them close to the beach, near a group of rocks. The two wizards climbed from stone to stone, into the lake, until they were in comfortable speaking distance of the old merwoman, who looked a bit pale.

As soon as the two wizards had come to a stop, the merwoman spoke in a scratchy voice.

"The Chieftainess Murcus wishes to thank you for saving her people. She says if you hadn´t provided medicine, many´d have died from the desease and even more because nobody was able to care for them. She wishes to present you with a token of her people´s gratitude. – Severus, you´ll accept that gift gracefully or they will be insulted to no end."

The potions master nodded and bowed to Murcus with what he hoped was a dignified smile.

The merwoman returned the gesture and held up the biggest fish Snape had ever seen. He took it – he nearly fell into the water, but a tug at his waistband showed that Dumbledore had his wand ready and was paying attention – and bowed again. The Chieftainess gave another screetchy howl and slid under the surface of the lake.

"We´ll give it to the house elves," Dumbledore suggested on their way back to the castle. "They can serve it for dinner, if that´s okay with you."

Snape held the fish as far from his robes as he could. It was cold and slimy and disgusting. It wasn´t even a fish he could use for potions. It was just a common, non-magical carp.

An hour later – an hour he spent trying to get the stench off his hands – Snape was presented with a huge portion of carp by Dumbledore himself. He gritted his teeth, murmured a quick thanks and choked down the fish as quickly as possible. Whilst he usually had nothing against fish, he couldn´t but think of the experience of carrying this specimen to the castle with each forkfull.

The potions master fled to his quarters as soon as possible.

He went to open his advent calendar. If he was lucky, there´d be something distracting in the box. He was lucky. The calendar provided exactly what he needed to get rid of the reminiscence of that carp.

Never before Snape had enjoyed a simple after dinner mint that much.


	8. 8

**December 8****th**

Saturday again. Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and Saviour of the Dark Lake´s resident Tribe of Merpeople, planned to stay in bed at least until lunch. Merlin knew he could do with the sleep.

It wasn´t meant to be.

It started as a soft tickling, but changed to an urgent itching all too soon and at last to a persistent, dull pain in his left forearm.

Snape rose without further ado, dressed, sent the portrait of the former Slytherin headmaster Aberneezer Asp to the current headmaster and set out for the gates. Another morning without coffee. Great. At least he wasn´t going to have to deal with children. Not that what he was going to deal with was any better.

He apparated to his Master as soon as he had passed the gates.

Snape turned and took in his surroundings in bewilderment. He had, like always, allowed the Dark Mark to whisk him away, had given control over his apparition to the Dark Lord, trusting that he was not going to take him to some cruel trap for his amusement. Now he stood in a large room, which was full of polished steel surfaces. It looked a bit like a lab, but on second sight it was rather a – muggle grand kitchen?

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle seniors, Wormtail, Bella Lestrange and her husband were standing with there sleeves rolled up over their elbows, wearing white aprons and small caps. They were covered in what seemed to be flour.

"Severus, my faithful servant," the Dark Lord spoke from behind him.

Snape turned and nearly choked. The most evil wizard in centuries wore white robes and a huge chef´s hat.

"I regret to call you from the post where your service is of great value, but these inepts gave me no choice. I need your knowledge of muggle ways. As Christmas is approaching, I decided to bake gingerbread men, the only fond memory I have of the muggle world. But alas, this battle is lost with warriors like those." He gestured at his deatheaters disparagingly.

Snape bowed and did some quick thinking. He had no idea how to make gingerbread men.

"My Lord," he said when he straightened. "May this humble servant have a look at the recipe in use?"

Voldemort handed him a sheet of parchment graciously.

Snape read it. It sounded reasonable. "The recipe seems not to be the reason for the failure. May I see how your servants proceeded?"

Voldemort commanded Malfoy with a short motion of his hand. The blond inclined his head and stepped nearer. He explained how they had made the dough. Snape asked for a sample and tried it. It was sweet and spicy, just like gingerbread men were supposed to be.

"How did you bake our Lord´s gingerbread men, Malfoy?" he asked. "Demonstrate!"

Malfoy drew his wand. "Incendio!"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess, Malfoy. You held the spell for" – he looked at the parchment – "fourteen minutes?"

"Of course! We followed the instructions to the letter!"

The potions master spent the next half hour explaining about electrical ovens. Then Bella Lestrange was assigned keeper of the oven. Half an hour (and a cooling charm) later the Dark Lord was merrily nibbling his first gingerbread man.

The rest of the day was spent supervising and decorating the biscuits. There was a small commotion when Wormtail gave a gingerbread man cherry eyes ("Nobody will eat an image of your Lord! Crucio!"), but apart from that it was simply a day spent in a kitchen, not very different from a day spent in a lab.

When Snape returned to his chambers late in the evening, he asked Aberneezer to notify Dumbledore that he was back and well and went to bed. He was just going to turn off the lights when he remembered that he hadn´t opened his advent calendar. He reached for the box. In it was a gingerbread man with cherry eyes. Despite having already brushed his teeth, Snape bit off its head with an evil grin.


	9. 9

**December 9****th**

Hogwarts´ resident deatheater was determined to finally have his quiet, restful day on Sunday. He ignored Aberneezer´s calls for him from the living room at what must be the crack of dawn and tore his duvet up over his ears.

Half an hour later he sneaked an arm out of bed far enough to grip his wand and hex the unlucky house elf, which had been given the task of waking him.

He even ignored the silvery phoenix, the headmaster sent a little later. Instead of listening he put his index fingers into his ears and sang ´Jingle Bells´ at the top of his lungs (and very false, but who cared as long as it was louder than Dumbledore´s impertinent patronus).

A quarter hour later he left his bed, swearing and cursing. A flock of twenty owls were gliding through his bedroom, occasionally hooting.

"Severus," the headmaster greeted him, when the potions master joined him at the Head Table a little later. He poured him a cup of tea. "How kind of you to join us. We were waiting for you. You see, it is Poppy´s birthday and our birthday serenade for her won´t be the same without your voice."

"You dragged me out of bed after the week I had that I could sing a birthday song with you?" Snape screeched.

"Severus!" Dumbledore sounded scandalised. "The students are listening! And you know very well that Poppy deserves this small kindness given the amount of students she has to patch up due to our ineptitude."

The potions master gasped for breath. "Headmaster!" he hissed under his breath, "Kindly give me the name of one student who got landed in the infirmary due to my ineptitude!"

The old wizard smiled benignly. "Where to start, dear boy, where to start? Neville Longbottom?"

"Longbottom?" The potions master shrieked, then he repeated much lower, but urgently: "Longbottom? Longbottom is a walking desaster! His injuries have nothing to do with anybody´s but his own ineptitude!"

"Let´s not quarrel about this now! Poppy is waiting!" Dumbledore said sternly. He tapped his goblet with his wand and the assembled students and teachers sang the nurse´s birthday song. Snape sat his arms crossed in front of his chest and pressed his lips shut tightly.

"You see, Severus," Dumbledore said kindly when the last student had finished their song (of course everybody sang their own tune, following Hogwarts´ tradition). "Your presence made all the difference."

Poppy Pomfrey beamed at the Hall at large and started cutting her birthday cake.

Snape returned to his quarters after he had had his piece of cake and opened his advent calendar. In it was a book. It was a muggle detective story. Snape only stopped reading when he had to go on his rounds through the castle. When at last every student was safely tucked away in their house, he returned to his book and finished it in front of his fireplace. From time to time he sipped a bit of red wine and smiled down at the blonde he had put together some days earlier.


	10. 10

**December 10****th**

"There is a message for Professor Snape!" Dotty, the elf, handed the potions master his obligatory cup of coffee when he came to the living room, his hair still a bit damp after his morning shower.

Snape took the roll of parchment after he had had a big gulp of the steaming brew and opened it. The headmaster had scheduled a staff meeting for the evening. The potions master rolled his eyes. He could hardly wait to hear what the old nitwit had come up with this time. Staff meetings before Christmas were notorious.

He still shuddered when he thought of how they had tried to talk Dumbledore out of having them perform a nativity play for the students remaining at the castle for the holidays for hours. At last Minerva had feigned a heart attack, which had done the trick.

The potions master spent all day picturing the worst scenarios the headmaster could come up with. For half an hour he even dreaded being forced to adopt Harry Potter for the break until he remembered that Dumbledore was not going to do that to his Golden Boy.

Dinner was strained. The subdued atmosphere at the Head Table made it clear that Snape wasn´t the only one who was worried. There was no chattering about what the students had done this day, no anecdotes about misfired spells or other magical mishaps.

The teachers assembled in the staff room half an hour after curfew. Those who usually commuted looked piqued about the extension of their working hours.

Dumbledore entered in a flourish of purple robes with a vivid pattern of holly and mistletoe on it. He looked like a walking present, an effect which was increased by the golden, bow-shaped wizard´s hat he was wearing.

"Everybody here?" he asked and clapped his hands.

House elves started offering trays of canapés and cups of punch, which Snape took as a bad omen. Nothing good was to come when the headmaster bribed them with salmon and roast beef.

Dumbledore waited until everybody was chewing on a sandwich before he dropped the bomb. "Our little performance yesterday gave me an idea. We will form a staff choir for the Christmas feast. The students will be thrilled."

Sprout nearly suffocated on a piece of smoked salmon. Minerva clutched her chest and Flitwick shook his head in denial.

"This will not be discussed," the headmaster went on. "Minerva, should you think of suffering a heart attack again, be warned. This time I´m going to ship you right to St. Mungo´s and not have you released before the New Year."

The deputy headmistress stopped her – in Snape´s mind brilliant – show immediately.

The white-bearded wizard reached into his pocket and produced a small stack of parchments, which he started to hand out to his stunned teachers. "Here is a list of the songs we´re going to perform," he informed them benignly. "I expect you to know the texts by heart by lunchtime tomorrow. Don´t panic, they´re only common Christmas carols. So you will know most of the texts anyway. We will determine which register each of you sings during our first rehearsal after the meal. If we lack voices, we can recruit some of the upper years."

"I´m not going to sing in a Great Hall full of students!" Snape protested. Not that he felt like singing at all. But better start negotiations small.

"There will be no exceptions," Dumbledore said strictly, " and there will be regular rehearsals. No excuses."

That said Dumbledore swept out of the room. The teachers looked at each other in shock. There was nothing to be done. The commuters murmured brief words of good night before they hurried down to the gates and the resident professors went to their quarters.

Snape opened his advent calendar. In it was a tuning fork. Great. Maybe he should apply as choir-master. Only he had a feeling that the position was already taken.


	11. 11

**December 11****th**

Severus Snape yawned widely as he woke on the morning of December, 11th. He rolled over to face his bedside table and reached for the tuning fork he had found in his advent calendar the previous evening. It had been the first gift, that was entirely useless. What was he supposed to do with a tuning fork?

Well, at least it was highly decorative. Its handle was entwined by a delicate silver serpent; or was it a sprout of ivy? Both were possible. Anyway, it was beautiful. If he couldn´t come up with a different way to use it, he could still make it a decoration for the mantlepiece.

He put the tuning fork down and reached for his advent calendar. He smirked when he opened the lid. In the box lay a black guitar, which – no surprise here – unshrank as soon as he took it out of its container.

Dotty, the elf, looked utterly bewildered at the snarky potions master when she found him sitting in bed with a guitar in his lap trying to find the tunes for ´Jingle Bells´.

Snape used all morning to practice and even the breaks between his morning lessons. Perhaps there was a way to avoid the humiliation of singing a solo in front of the whole student body. Dumbledore could hardly expect him to play and sing at the same time and Snape was quite confident he could talk the headmaster into letting him accompany the choir on his instrument.

The tuning fork turned out to be magical. It tuned the instrument when held next to the strings.

Lunch at the Head Table was, again, a rather subdued event. The teachers picked at their meals, only the headmaster, who wore his gift-wrap robes again, was cheerful. The thought who the old man expected to unwrap him crossed Snape´s mind and he snorted into his soup.

"Really, Severus," snapped Minerva, "I can´t see how you can be so coldblooded and laugh in the face of desaster."

"What did you bring your guitar for?" asked Sprout. "You´re not trying to worm your way out of this, are you?"

The students lived up to their reputation of having a sixth sense for trouble, for not one single pupil left the hall after their meal. Everybody sat, their eyes fixed at the Head Table in anticipation. At last Dumbledore got up from his seat and beamed at the assembled youths and his staff in turn, ignoring the sour looks of the latter.

"My dear children, my dear colleagues," he cried, "following the spirit of the season, I decided to form a teachers´ choir to please us all with merry song on Christmas Eve."

There was a buzzing noise – probably students talking about canceling their ticket home – which died down quickly as the old wizard went on.

"Today we shall find out in a first rehearsal, who will sing which register. Minerva, if you please."

McGonagall looked at her colleagues for help, but nobody met her eyes. Dumbledore conducted with his wand, but the deputy headmistress kept her mouth tightly shut.

"Professor, this is insubordination!" cried Dumbledore. "You know the punishment for mutiny!"

Looking murderous, the old witch sang, and as far as Snape could tell, not badly.

"Brilliant, Minerva, brilliant!" cried Dumbledore. "What an exquisit alto!"

One by one the teachers were tested. Snape was last. He cleared his throat.

"Headmaster," he said, "as I knew I couldn´t live up to my colleagues high standards when it comes to song, I brought my guitar, to accompany the choir."

"An excellent idea, Severus!" cried the headmaster and the potions master felt a jolt of pride. "Let´s have musical instruments, too! But who to play them?" He looked around the Hall. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I´m sure you´d be marvellous with a triangle. And Harry, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley have already worked with a flute! Excellent, excellent. Mr. Finch-Fletchley, how about you? Can you play the bagpipes? And Miss Lovegood, you´d be most winsome next to a harp."

The selected students gaped at the headmaster in disbelief. Of course, Snape was sure of that, neither of them played the assigned instrument.

"Professor Snape will be in charge of the student band to accompany the teachers´ choir," cried the headmaster happily. "You will be notified of the next rehearsal. Please contact the professor by tomorrow evening whether you have your own instruments or need to order some."

Once again Severus Snape wondered what cruel fates had put Dumbledore in charge of his life.


	12. 12

**December 12****th**

Severus Snape woke to unsufferable cold. His breath formed a small cloud above his face and small ice crystals hung to his duvet where the cloud brushed along it. His first – irrational – thought was that the crystals were beautiful. His second that he couldn´t feel his nose.

He raised his hand to feel the organ, but withdrew it under the duvet as soon as it was touched by the icy dungeon air. He wriggled to move his face into the warmth of his feather-bed and then fingered his nose carefully. It was still there, but as cold as a reindeer´s snout in midwinter.

"Dotty!" he howled, but as he was under the duvet only a muffled sound left his bed. It was, however, enough to call the elf.

"Professor Snape, Sir?" the elf looked at the wizard – or rather the small shock of hair that was visible – questioningly.

"Why is it so cold in here?" came the subdued question from the bed.

"Professor McGonagall, ma´am, told the elves to put down the heating a bit. Ma´am said professor Dumbledore was trying to sing then. But there was a mistake. The elves is most agrieved. The heating is shut down."

"Then start it again!" howled the potions master under his blankets.

"We is working on it," the elf said earnestly. "But it is difficult. It will take all day. Professor Dumbledore says all witches and wizards is to meet in the Great Hall. There is hot tea."

Snape cast a warming spell on himself and left his bed. He ran to his cupboard like a cat on hot coals. The floor was incredibly cold. Once he reached his cupboard, he put on every robe he owned. At last he was twice his usual seize, but felt a bit warmer. He spelled his shoes bigger to get his feet – clad in several layers of socks – in.

The Great Hall gave the impression of an asylum. There were several cauldrons with little fires in them and students holding their hands to the flames. Professors Sprout and Flitwick were handing out cups of tea.

It struck Snape how easily you could tell the rich from the poor under these circumstances. Malfoy was packed in layers upon layers of warm clothes, he was nearly spheric. Weasley on the other hand looked not different than usually. The boy could hardly have more than two robes on. It was a surprise that Harry Potter, Wizarding Hero and Everybody´s Darling, resembled rather Weasley than Malfoy. Was the boy poor? James Potter had rolled in gold.

"Severus!" Dumbledore approached in a flourish of multicoloured robes. He wore the outer layers open, which gave the impression of looking at an exploded rainbow. "Here you are, dear boy! We need firewood. Real fires are warming better than magical ones."

Half an hour later Snape found himself chopping wood with the seventh year boys of all houses at the edge of the forbidden forrest. Which was exactly where he found himself two hours later, four hours later and eight hours later and anywhen in between. Hagrid dragged trees towards the little group and the wizards chopped them to pieces. Malfoy, being too inflexible in his multitude of robes, levitated the fruits of their work to the Great Hall. Of course the chopping could have been done with magic, but the exercise, Snape decided, warmed them a bit, especially those who had only few robes.

The heating was restored to normal by dinnertime.

The only good thing about the day was that there were neither lessons nor choir rehearsals.

After dinner – Snape was excused from his proctoring duties, which were taken over by the deputy headmistress – the potions master opened his advent calendar. In it was a small bottle of firewhisky. Snape spent the evening exploring the warming qualities of alcohol.


	13. 13

**December 13****th**

As the headmaster had decided that everybody needed time to recover from yesterday´s ordeal, the first period was free. Snape had been excused from proctoring duties again, probably to give Minerva time to do something for the school – the potions master grinned at the thought that Dumbledore was actually letting his deputy serve detention.

In any case, Severus Snape was not going to complain. He had a vast and relaxed breakfast in front of his fireplace. Dotty brought pancakes with a sinful amount of honey and cream and the potions master spent more than half an hour enjoying every bit of it. He even licked his plate clean after checking that he wasn´t observed. Aberneezer was fast asleep, the elf wasn´t yet back to get the dishes, so why not indulge in this innocent pleasure.

As it was still too early for classes, he returned to his bedroom and opened his advent calendar box.

What was this? – A lipstick?

He examined the item carefully. Basically it was a lipstick, but not a women´s one. It smelled pleasantly of honey and cherry and a bit of vaseline. There was no colour. A lip balm.

Snape licked his lips, rubbed the upper on the lower lip and made some soft popping noises. Yes, yesterdays long stay outdoors had left his lips dry and chapped. He applied the balm and repeated the rubbing and noise-making. Better.

The treatment was repeated twice before the first lesson started. The potions master enjoyed it a lot. The small item was a brilliant example of first class brewing. It took an artist to make a balm of such superior efficacy, then harden it enough to form a lipstick – which was more convenient to carry in the pocket than a jar of liquid balm – without spoiling the brew. And, as a bonus, the whole thing smelled and tasted pleasantly.

Tragedy struck hours later, when Snape was on his way to dinner.

"Severus," cried the headmaster shortly before the potions master entered the hall. "I´d like your opinion on something." He took Snape by the elbow amicably – a fact that would have earned anybody else an early and painful death, but Snape could hardly throttle his superior – and led him to the big oak doors. "I put up this mistletoe and I wanted to hear how you like it." Dumbledore pointed up to the door-frame, where indeed a large mistletoe – decorated with a gaudy red and gold ribbon – hung.

Snape paled. Had he just been tricked to stand under a mistletoe with the headmaster? A nearly two-hundred year old man? The question was answered by a hearty kiss on his lips.

"Mmmh," purred the headmaster. "Is that cherry?" He leaned forward to take another sample, but was pushed aside by Hermione Granger, who was obviously on her way to dinner and absorbed in a conversation with Potter and Weasley.

"Miss Granger," complained Dumbledore, "haven´t you been tought that it is very impolite to push somebody away from a mistletoe?"

The girl stopped short and looked up. "Sorry, Sir," she said miserably. "I didn´t notice." That said, she leaned forward and pecked her potions teacher on the lips. She blushed and fled to the Gryffindor table.

Weasley sighed. "Well, it´s a tradition," and kissed Snape before hurrying on. Potter followed his lead. Snape tried to flee from the cursed spot, but he was accosted by a flock of Hufflepuffs.

To put the whole desaster in a nutshell, Severus Snape was kissed by a total of hundred fourty-seven people, among them Pomona Sprout, his entire NEWT class, Albus Dumbledore (thrice) and Argus Filch, before he managed to elbow his way to the Head Table.

He wolfed down his dinner, his face burning with humiliation and anger, and left for his quarters as soon as possible. He practically ran past the Gryffindor table.

"Who´d have guessed that he was such a fantastic kisser?" Parvati Patil gave her opinion to her housemates as the potions master rushed by. Snape slowed down a bit to hear more. Luckily the students were so absorbed in their discussing his abilities (not that he remembered kissing back) that they didn´t notice his presence.

"We should put up a mistletoe in his classroom," said Granger. "It would be a bit more private."

"Hermione!" Weasley was scandalised and the girl blushed.

"It was just an idea," she giggled.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Snape went on to his dungeons. He stopped at his classroom and put up a mistletoe repellant charm.

Once back in his quarters, he enjoyed another evening flirting with his jigsaw blonde.


	14. 14

**December 14****th**

Snape got up early as he was to proctor breakfast in the Great Hall. He entered the hall exactly five minutes before food was served and strode up to the Head Table. As soon as the gong announced the elves were taking orders, he snarled "coffee, hot, black, strong" and was served his cup.

After a couple of gulps he felt a bit more awake and ordered toast, bacon and scrambled eggs. The potions master had just taken his first bite, when the headmaster floated – there was no other word as the man was clad in fluffy whitish-blue robes, which made him look like a cloud – into the hall.

Snape´s lips tightened. Why was he deprived of his peaceful breakfast in his quarters when the headmaster himself was present in the Great Hall?

Dumbledore, it turned out, had another fit of Christmas spirit.

"My dears," he cried instead of ordering breakfast, "today the lunch break will be extended until 2pm. Our choir and band need to rehearse. Lunch will be served from 12:00 to 12:15, then the Great Hall will be closed to everybody but the musicians."

Snape thought about calling the old wizard´s attention to the fact that he had recruited every single teacher to the choir, which was going to leave most of the student body unchaperoned during rehearsals, but then the man was his superior. Who was Severus Snape to question his decisions.

Minutes later the potions master found himself surrounded by a bunch of students, prominent among them the Gryffindor Golden Trio, who asked for advice where to get their instruments. Grudgingly he took them downstairs to his office and filed a collective rush order to Whimper and Trumpet´s via the floo network. Luckily the school held emergency funds and if this wasn´t an emergency, then Snape had never seen one.

The instruments, flutes, triangles, bagpipes and a harp, were delivered by owl between the first and second morning class. The harp was carried by the smallest owl and by its looks it had lost a rather violent discussion among the birds who had to handle this parcel.

Lunch was hectic. The students wolfed their food down – shepherd´s pie for everybody, even the vegetarians – and the elves stood beside them, tapping their feet impatiently. Snape didn´t remember ever seeing one of the school servants during a meal before.

At 12:15 sharp Dumbledore strode into the Hall and chased everybody who wasn´t needed for the choir and band outside with merry cries of "Make room for the fine arts, children, hurry!".

Snape distributed sheets of music to his band-members. He seriously doubted that any of them could read them, but then Dumbledore made a habit of conducting when the school song was sung despite everybody singing their own tune. So, Snape decided, the band might as well have music although it was useless.

The rehearsal was pure hell. Dumbledore turned out to be a stern taskmaster. He made the teachers repeat their song again and again until the choir sounded like a flock of ravens.

The band was equally desastrous. Finch-Fletchley fainted twice from blowing the bagpipes. Malfoy kept hitting Potter with his triangle when he thought nobody was watching. Lovegood forgot to play most of the time. Instead she watched Snape intently as if she expected him to grow antlers. The Golden Trio kept producing shrill tones. It was pure bliss when Potter used his flute to retaliate on Malfoy instead of trying to play it.

True to everybody but Dumbledore´s expectation the unsupervised students outside the Great Hall ran havoc. Afternoon lessons had to be cancelled and it took until past dinner to restore order.

In an emergency staff meeting the headmaster announced that future rehearsals were to be held after curfew, which was to be extended for band members.

Exhausted, the potions master returned to his quarters. He opened his advent calendar, hoping for another bubble bath. There was a bag of valerian tea. Not bad either.


	15. 15

**December 15****th**

It was the weekend again. Severus Snape, potions master at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, stretched luxuriously when he woke. On his bedside table, a breakfast tray waited for him. He untangled himself from the embrace of his teddy bear – it was surprising how quickly he had gotten used to his new bedmate. In fact he asked himself how he had managed to sleep before he had gotten the stuffed toy.

He sat in his bed, arranged the pillows in a pile against the headboard after removing his wand from under them. Then Snape levitated the breakfast tray onto his lap. There was, of course, a large cup of coffee and an assortment of little cakes, pastries, muffins and biscuits. In general the potions master hadn´t got a sweet tooth, but when it came to breakfast in bed, the meal couldn´t be too sweet.

The wizard indulged in the sinful pile of calories, washing it down with gulps of coffee. This was the way to spend Saturday morning. A pity he couldn´t have it every weekend. It was preferable over breakfast in the Great Hall by far.

When he had finished breakfast and licked his fingers clean, he reached for his advent calendar.

A roll of spellotape.

Now what was that for? Having learned that the calendar always provided useful things for the day, Snape slid the spellotape into his pocket when he finally left his quarters to proctor at Hogsmeade.

He wasn´t too fond of Hogsmeade weekends. True, they were, as Pomona and Minerva kept pointing out, a nice change of routine, but then shopping or having a pint wasn´t too much fun with dozens of brats nearby. The only good thing about this visit to the village was that Minerva was on duty, too – still on detention the poor woman – so any trouble with Gryffindors could be handed over to her. And usually it was the Gryffindors who caused trouble.

Snape was just going to make an appearance at Zonko´s – sending him there every half hour usually reduced the number of pranks in the evening considerably and was worth the owls of complaint by – when he felt the telltale tingle in his left forearm. He signalled Filius that something was amiss before he hurried to a quiet side street to disapparate.

"Severus," the Dark Lord greeted him, "again we need your knowledge of muggle ways. Tell us everything about gift-wrapping."

Snape´s bewilderment must have shown on his face, for the other wizard continued. "I intend to send my old enemy, Dumbledore, a cursed present for Christmas. If it isn´t wrapped properly, the nitwit will know it isn´t from some muggle-loving scum and investigate. I need to know how to make it an authentic parcel."

"If I knew the size of the parcel, I could concentrate on the details needed for the actual project," said Snape.

"Alas, Severus, I decided this has to be a one man operation. It´s delicate. Nobody´s to know about the details. Of course I sent Wormtail to buy me a selection of boxes in various sizes, I wouldn´t go to a muggle shop myself. But he doesn´t know which box will actually be used, as you won´t know the size of parcel I need to wrap. Now start."

Snape conjured an array of gift papers and started explaining about colours and pattern. He lectured about what was considered tasteful and what was too gaudy; and how Dumbledore was going to prefer a gaudy parcel over a tasteful one anytime.

He showed how to use spellotape (again the calendar had proven useful) and how to attach a bow.

The Dark Lord followed his every word and move with great interest.

Then it was practice time. In the beginning Snape had to put his finger on the half-finished slip-knot to help, but soon the Dark Lord got a hang of how to do it.

Snape returned to Hogwarts after dinner. He ordered Dotty to prepare him a meal and preserve it under a warming charm for him, then he went to the headmaster´s office to warn him.

"Thank you, Severus," said the old wizard. "Which way to bind a bow did you show him?"

The potions master conjured a parcel and a bow and showed him. "It´s a quite unusual knot to use for Christmas parcels, so it should be fairly easy to recognise the trap," he pointed out when he handed Dumbledore his work.

The headmaster had a close look at it and giggled. "Brilliant! The irony of it! This is exactly the way Grindelwald used to gift-wrap his presents. I´ll recognise it easily."

Snape decided he didn´t want to know any details about Grindelwald´s way of gift-wrapping and retired to his quarters for the rest of the evening.


	16. 16

**December 16****th**

Sunday. Severus Snape was determined to spend a quiet day at last and it seemed as if he was to succeed. He slept in late, undisturbed by elves, owls, patronuses or overexcited headmasters. When he finally woke around lunch time, he found a breakfast tray on his bedside table. The coffee was still warm, protected by an elf´s (assumably Dotty´s) warming spell. The rolls were fresh and smelled as if they came fresh from the oven and the scrambled eggs seemed to have left the frying pan only minutes ago, which couldn´t be true, because never in nearly two decades had the elves delivered breakfast after nine o´clock.

The potions master rose, stretched and padded to the bathroom. After a luxurious shower, he levitated his breakfast to the living room. He chose his favourite armchair near the fireplace and transfigured one of the jigsaw pieces on the floor into a small table to put the tray on. The blonde was scandalized and pouted although the piece hadn´t contained any part of her.

Snape didn´t let the pouting blonde spoil his good mood and indulged in his breakfast. He sipped the coffee little by little and took only small forkfuls of egg, enjoying every bit of it. After the most timeconsuming breakfast in a year (at least), the potions master returned to his bedroom and changed into proper robes. It felt like the right thing to do although he didn´t plan to leave his quarters in the near future. Then he opened his advent calendar box.

A whip?

What was that for?

He had not much time to wonder as a loud pounding told him that he had a guest. Cursing under his breath, whip still in hand, the potions master approached the door. Who dared disturb him?

It was Hagrid. The gameskeeper raised a brow as he took in Snape´s snarky expression and the whip he was still holding.

"I didn´t interrupt anything important, I hope," the half-giant said pointedly.

Snape glared at the man, then he hid the hand carrying the whip behind his back. He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. "No," he hurried to say, "do come in Hagrid." He stepped aside to let his colleague pass.

Hagrid followed the invitation. The sight of the pouting blonde on the floor caused the other brow to disappear behind the gameskeeper´s fringe.

"What can I do for you?" Snape asked quickly to distract Hagrid.

"It´s good of you to ask," said the latter, shaking his head as if trying to move his focus from the blonde. "I could do with some help. And you may be the right person." He craned his neck to glance over Snape´s shoulder and get a better view of the whip.

"What?" Snape had no idea what Hagrid was talking about.

"Professor Dumbledore is planning a surprise for the students. He asked for my help, but it´s a bit much for one to handle."

Snape wanted to tell the half-giant that he had no intention whatsoever to be made a part of the headmaster´s next idiotic plan, but then he was quite sure that refusing would cause the Hogwarts rumour mill to get notice of the whip. So better cooperate.

"Would you mind coming down to my hut with me?" Hagrid asked. "You know in this castle the walls have ears. I don´t want to risk giving the plan away."

Since when did Hagrid care about secrecy? Snape got curious. The plan must be very special.

"Aren´t they beautiful?" Hagrid asked with awe in his voice half an hour later. They were standing in front of a small paddock in the Forbidden Forest. Seven gorgeous reindeer were assembled around a crib full of hay. "The only problem is, I don´t know how to get them in front of a sleigh. Your whip might help."

Snape snorted. "If those are what I think they are, you won´t get far with a whip."

Hagrid hung his head. "I never had any before."

"And as they are cute, you have no idea how to care for them."

The gameskeeper nodded. "I couldn´t borrow a book in the library. If a student saw, they´d guess."

"I see," said Snape. "Fortunately I came across a book on magical reindeer some years ago. You have to find the leader of the herd. It has a red nose."

"A red nose? Now, that´s easy," cried Hagrid, "that´s Cupido."

"Cupido?" the potions master snorted. "Well, whatever. All you have to do is ask the leader politely to pull the sleigh. When he or she moves in front of the sleigh, the others will follow."

"Thank you so much!" cried Hagrid. "That´s really easy."

Half an hour later Snape was back at his quarters and wondered what the whip was for.


	17. 17

**December 17****th**

Monday started with a rather bewildering experience. Dotty, the elf, brought breakfast like every day. But as soon as she had put the tray onto the bedside table, she ran. Snape turned to look what the elf had been gaping at. Ah, yes. Maybe it hadn´t been such a good idea to hang the whip on the wall behind the headboard, but then it was rather decorative and the potions master had no idea what else to do with it.

The rest of the morning and lunch were quiet due to the fact that the students knew that Snape didn´t like Mondays and therefore trod carefully.

Even the NEWT class after lunch started pleasantly. Snape waved his wand at the blackboard to reveal the instructions on how to brew Eghnough, an ancient potion to cheer people up in the dark season. It had a shiny, yellow colour to make up for the lack of sunlight in midwinter and, if brewed properly, a delightful sweet flavour.

The students rushed for the ingredient cupboard. Snape reclined in his chair and watched them contently, when his attention was drawn to something gaudy orange.

"What is this?" Snape snarled. He was sure that none of the tools used in potion making was THAT colour, and if it ever had been he´d have come up with a way to change it personally withing the last two decades. "Explain, Miss Granger!"

The girl extended her hand reluctantly, presenting the offending object. "It´s a muggle lunchbox, Sir," she said softly. "My mother gave it to me for the journey in September and as it is odour tight, I use it to store my star anise fruits. I don´t like the smell."

"Odour tight?" Snape snapped and grabbed the item. Nothing kept the smell of star anise fruits, not even a charm. He sniffed at the box. Nothing. "Open!" He held out the box for the girl. Really. Star anise fruits. "Where can I get one?"

"Uhm, you have to go to a party," babbled the Gryffindor knowitall.

"A party?" snarled the potions master. "What has a party to do with it?"

"Those lunchboxes are sold at parties. A group of potential customers meets at a house and a vendor comes to them. They buy in an agreeable atmosphere."

"Where is the next party?"

"I have to ask Mum."

"What are you waiting for?"

Several hours later, Severus Snape sat on the Grangers´ couch, between Hermione Granger and a Mrs. Farmer-Woolington (or something sounding similar). What good luck that Mrs. Granger was hosting a lunchbox party (Granger had used a different name, but Snape wanted lunchboxes for his ingredients, so a lunchbox party it was) that very evening.

The vendor was a girl of perhaps twenty or twenty-two. She looked at the snarky man, clad all in black, who was sitting among the housewives like a raven among songbirds, irritatedly. Mrs. Granger handed out small plates with pasties and cups of tea.

When everybody was chewing and sipping happily, the vendor started her presentation.

"This," she said, presenting a large plastic box, "is a vitamine spy. It will keep your vegetables fresh."

The women nodded politely.

"It is marvellous," continued the girl. "You can use it for carrots. Or cucumbers. Or asparagus. I, personally, use it for tomatoes."

"I have one," said Mrs. Farmer-Whatwashername. "I use it for salad. It´s great."

The women ooohed and aaaahed.

"What about paprika? Can it be used for paprika?" asked a woman, whose name the potions master didn´t remember.

"Good question!" cried .

"Of course," said the vendor girl. "Any sort of vegetables. Paprika, too. But that is not all! I also use it for my child´s toys! And sometimes I use it for my jewelry! You can keep the jewelry in the bathroom and it won´t get wet!"

Some of the women clapped and Snape wondered why anybody would want to keep cucumbers, toys and diamonds in the same plastic box. But then he had never understood women properly.

The party went slowly. The vendor kept returning to the first item ("Mushrooms! You can put mushrooms into it!") between her other goods. There were caketins (plastic!) and more plastic boxes, but none small enough for potions ingredients. There were funny plastic items, which were – according to the vendor – supposed to be used for decoration and also some plastic toys. When the girl finally showed a lunchbox, Snape was close to tears with joy. Unfortunately it turned out that the lunchbox was only available in orange, so the potions master didn´t buy any.

Later he opened his advent calendar. In it was a black plastic lunchbox. Snape hurried to his office happily. He put his star anise fruits into their new container and returned to his quarters for a glass of firewhisky.


	18. 18

**December 18****th**

"Professor Dumbledore wishes Dotty to tell Professor Snape he is to proctor breakfast, because he missed his evening rounds." The small elf stood near the door, ready to bolt should the potions master react violently to the bad news.

Snape moaned inwardly. In his haze to get his hands on muggle lunchboxes he had forgotten his duties! "Bring me a cup of coffee," he ordered the elf.

Dotty hung her ears. "The headmaster says you is to eat at the Great Hall. He says," the tiny creature hesitated. "he says, you is lost the privilege of breakfast in your rooms."

"What?" roared Snape. He was up in an instant.

A quarter hour later – half an hour before breakfast was served at the Great Hall – he entered the headmaster´s office.

"Albus," he cried, "do tell me that the house elf misunderstood you! You´re not going to make me eat my meals at the Great Hall!"

"Severus, my boy," Dumbledore mused benignly, "it´s only just that I withdraw certain privileges because of your failure."

"What? I was on duty! I sampled ingredient containers!"

"Really?" the old wizard asked with interest. "Do tell!"

"I sampled muggle containers. Ingenious, those muggles. They have boxes where you can keep celeriac, diamonds and toy cars at once!"

Dumbledore frowned. "And what are the uses of toy cars in potion brewing?"

"I´m not sure, yet," Snape said as seriously as he could, "I only started the project recently."

The headmaster smiled beatifically. "You find time for research besides your teaching duties? Wonderful, Severus, wonderful! It´s important for Hogwarts to have a teacher who´s a reknowned expert in their area. Research will be good for the school´s reputation. As you seemingly have only forgotten to inform me about your extra project for the school, I´ll give you a chance to win your privileges back."

The potions master shuddered. This didn´t bode well.

"As Hagrid has told you," Dumbledore went on, "I´m planning a surprise. I intend to play Santa for our students, reindeer and all. What I still need, is an elf. A snarky elf."

Snape gasped for air. "I´m not going to play a bloody elf!" He sprayed the headmaster´s desk with spit as he shouted, but he couldn´t care less.

"That or you´ll eat at the Head Table in the future. Three meals a day. Four if you want afternoon tea." Dumbledore looked very determined. "I prepared a costume for you."

Two minutes later, the potions master was shouting again. "Green tights? Are you mad?" He shook the offensive item as well as the brown knicker-bockers and the green jacket.

"But Severus! Green is the colour Salazar Slytherin himself chose for his House! You should be honoured!"

"I´m not honoured when I´m supposed to dress like a bloody clown! What next? A feather hat? Pointed shoes? Where will you stop, old nitwit?"

"My, my, Severus, why are you such an angry young man? I´m not that old!" Dumbledore smiled his everpresent benign smile. "And now, I think it is time for you to go and proctor breakfast."

Snape stormed into the hall some minutes later. He glared at the students and took points for the smallest offence.

The potions master tried to order food in his quarters at lunchtime and for dinner, but Dotty merely informed him that she had her orders. After dinner at the Head Table, Snape fled to his rooms as quickly as possible.

After half an hour of angry pacing, he had calmed enough to open his advent calendar. He smirked. Tuesday´s present was another chocolate bar. At least Dumbledore couldn´t stop him from eating sweets in bed.


	19. 19

**December 19****th**

After a rather restless night – Severus Snape had been tossing and turning all the time – the potions master decided to try bribery. He was not going to play Dumbledore´s elf! But then he had no plans whatsoever to have his meals at the Great Hall for the rest of the school year (and longer; you could never be sure with Dumbledore).

Snape wasn´t a spy for nothing. Coming up with schemes, playing on people, manipulating them, those were things he knew well.

"Headmaster," he greeted the old man cheerfully when he sat down beside him at the head table for breakfast. How predictable the old coot was! Snape would have made any bet that the fool would come for breakfast to see the potions master suffer. Well, Snape had no intention to suffer. He poured himself a cup of coffee.

As he was not on duty, he pointedly ignored Malfoy and Potter shouting at each other from their house tables. It was not easy, especially when Malfoy roared "I´d be very silent if I were known to flee into a teacher´s trousers at the first sight of danger!" at the top of his lungs. Potter, on the other hand, doing an imitation of a stranded trout was quite entertaining. Unfortunately McGonagall ended the fun.

"Did you sleep well, Severus?" asked the headmaster.

"Thank you for asking," Hogwarts´ resident death eater smiled sweetly. "Very relaxing. The walk from the hall to my chambers after dinner seems to have done me a world of good. – I have something to show you, Albus. Would you mind joining me in my quarters after breakfast?"

The headmaster sat in Snape´s favourite armchair while the latter went to his bedroom to get what he wanted to show the old man.

"You could use it for your surprise," said Snape when he returned. "I don´t want you to think that I´m not ready to contribute to your plan."

"Then you´re going to play my elf?"

"Unfortunately I have to refuse. Just imagine! What if I´m summoned? I really can´t go to a meeting dressed up as an elf." He chose this moment to reveal the black leather whip, which he had hidden behind his back so far. He cracked it.

A glint of greed showed in Dumbledore´s eyes. Very good.

"This is wonderful! You´d agree to let me use it?"

"Of course. I´d be glad to be of assistance. As for the eating arrangements..."

Dumbledore didn´t take his eyes off the whip for one instant. "I´ll speak to the elves."

Snape smiled and handed the whip over.

The older wizard tried it out immediately. "Severus, it seems that there´s a trick! Your crack was much louder than mine! Where did you learn to use a whip that expertly?"

"The Dark Lord organized a workshop some years ago," explained the potions master.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "I see. I guess I´ll have to practice a bit."

Severus Snape had lunch in his quarters. Although it was a simple vegetable soup it was the most delicious meal he had had in months. In an extraordinary good mood, he went to the bedroom and opened his advent calendar. In it were – shrunken of course – a vase with a single pink rose, a silver candle-stick and an elegant white candle. Snape smiled. Dinner in his quarters was going to be quite festive.

He even whistled on his way to his next lesson.


	20. 20

**December 20****th**

Breakfast came with a small roll of parchment. It was a note from the headmaster.

"Dear Severus," it said, "as the farewell feast for the students, who go home for the break, is tomorrow evening, I recommend strongly to schedule another rehearsal for the band this afternoon. The performance left much to be desired at your last session. I took the liberty to cancel all your afternoon lessons, band members are excused from theirs. Albus."

The potions master cursed under his breath while he poured himself a cup of coffee. After a couple of sips he reached for his advent calendar and opened it. If he was lucky, there would be some kind of ear-muff – preferably in black – in it.

There wasn´t. Instead he found another roll of parchment. It looked very old and on it was the recipe for a calming draught. That did not bode well.

Snape spent the whole morning trying to come up with a way to make the band rehearsal bearable, but it wasn´t before lunch that an idea sprang up in his mind.

"Ladies and gentleman," he sneered at the assembled band members, "this is our final rehearsal. If we´re lucky, we´ll perform tomorrow at the feast and never mention this band again." He glared at Malfoy, who was shaking his triangle threateningly at Potter. "To make our meeting a bit more interesting, there will be a little prize game."

Malfoy stopped brandishing his instrument and looked at his head of house, eager to learn more. As did everybody else but the Lovegood girl.

"The student who behaves worst," Snape continued, "will win a ride in a sleigh, dressed in a muggle elf costume. In front of the whole student body."

"Dumbledore won´t let you do this!" sneered Malfoy.

"On the contrary, ," smirked Snape, "I mentioned this nice little muggle custom to him and he volunteered to steer the sleigh."

"There is no such muggle custom," protested the Granger girl.

Snape cocked an eyebrow. "And who is going to convince the headmaster of that, Miss Granger? He has a costume, too."

That said, the rehearsal was pure bliss. The students payed attention, followed instructions and did their best. After three hours work the band even sounded endurable. Snape declared the Lovegood girl the winner of the elf job (she clapped her hands excitedly) and sent the students to their houses.

He enjoyed the rest of the afternoon trying out the calming draught recipe he had found in his advent calendar. The brewing was very relaxing and the potion smelled nicely. Snape was quite surprised that the brew required a drop of blasting gelatine, but it added nice pink fumes to the bubbling potion.

Then it struck him. Slughorn, his old potions teacher, had mentioned it in his NEWT class. Paxmundi, the legendary peace on earth draught, required blasting gelatine! But the recipe had been lost in the war against Grindelwald! Could it be? Had he, Severus Snape, rediscovered the most potent happiness potion ever in an advent calendar?

Excited, the potions master flooed the headmaster. Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace within a minute.

"You´re old enough, Albus, you could have seen it," Snape cried agitatedly, ignoring Dumbledore´s offended grimace at the blatant mention of his old age. "I found the recipe ... among old notes my grandfather left me. Tell me if it is what I think it is!"

He pushed the old wizard towards the cauldron.

Dumbledore smelled the brew and a radiant smile appeared on his face. "Paxmundi! Severus, a place in the potioneers´ hall of fame is yours! What a discovery! May I?" After Snape´s signal of consent he took a dose of two drops. His expression became beatific within the moment. "Aaaaaaah!" he purred. "Thank you! The day can´t get any better!"

"As a matter of fact, it can," said the potions master and told Dumbledore about the elf he had recruited.

"Brilliant!" Dumbledore was beside himself with joy.

Snape spent all evening writing a report for Potions Weekly. He finished it just in time for his evening rounds in the corridors. When he returned, he treated himself with a glass of red wine, a muggle detective story and another flirt with his jigsaw blonde.


	21. 21

**December 21****st**

As it was the last school day before the break and everybody but Severus Snape was in Christmas mood, lessons were purgatory. Snape had to take more points than in the last three weeks altogether. Nevertheless the lessons were not very effective, the students spending most of them in Lala-land. So the potions master was even more relieved than the youths when the bell announced the end of lessons (half an hour early because of the feast).

At six pm sharp the whole school gathered in the Great Hall and five minutes later a tiny tingling announced that something was going to happen. The sound grew louder and louder until at last a Hufflepuff first year pointed up to the ceiling from where a sleigh, which was pulled by seven magical reindeer, descended on the waiting witches and wizards. The students oohed and aaahed when they became aware that the sleigh was steered by a man in a red suit with white fur embroidery and a long white beard. The man cracked a black leather whip happily, crying "HoHoHo" from time to time. Behind him was a huge brown sack, which was being held by a blonde elf. The elf, who was supposed to look snarky, looked sick, or maybe scared, or maybe both. Snape wasn´t sure. On second sight he wasn´t even sure whether the elf held the sack or held on to it.

The students clapped enthusiastically when Dumbledore landed in front of the head table. The headmaster hinted a bow and waved his wand. The sack opened and small parcels hovered to the kids and staff until everybody present had one. Another flick and the parcels opened. Everybody had got a Christmas hat. Red with a white tassel.

The children put the hats on happily. Most of the staff smiled, too, but the potions master had to fight down an urge to slap the old man with the ridiculous hat.

When everybody was dressed what Dumbledore considered festively, the headmaster signalled the choir to raise and the band to come to their leader.

They performed the Christmas carols the old wizard had chosen, a dozen altogether, and considering the chaotic rehearsals everything went really well. Only the Lovegood girl vomiting during ´Rudolph the rednosed reindeer´ was a bit of a backdraw, but then it settled the question whether she had been feeling sick in the sleigh.

The feast was delicious. The house elves had outdone themselves. They served about two dozens of different starters – from A for asparagus to Z for zebra – along with a variety of delicious wines. The main courses were even more various. There were more kinds of meat than Snape could identify, several kinds of fish and a multitude of vegetables, dumplings, salads and rice dishes. Again, each dish came with a different wine, at least at the head table.

The students amused themselves with guessing what they were eating, which occupied them and granted the teachers an undisturbed meal until somebody who had been on vacation in Sweden identified roast reindeer.

"Shouldn´t there be nine?" a Ravenclaw asked.

"You´re right!" cried a muggleborn Hufflepuff. "They roasted Santa´s reindeer!"

Pandemonium ensued. Dumbledore had to use a spell to be heard over the havoc.

"Quiet!" he shouted. "Quiet! Of course your Christmas roast was NOT, I repeat, NOT made from magical reindeer! Everybody will get their presents in time!"

As the desserts were served, the wines became sweeter and goblets of punch appeared on the head table. Snape witnessed with concern that Pomona had become quite giggly. He made a mental note to avoid the woman for the rest of the evening.

When the last piece of cake had been eaten – which took amazingly little time – the brats were sent to their houses to pack their trunks. The teachers stayed at the head table and the elves provided another helping of punch. And then another.

Pomona and Minerva were both very giggly by that time.

"I really liked that mistletoe," snickered the herbology teacher, "the other day. Strictly for professional reasons, of course."

"Professional reasons?" echoed the deputy headmistress. "Do you mean to tell me that you didn´t kiss him?"

Snape saw the danger and tried to leave for his quarters, but Dumbledore poured him another goblet of punch.

"We can´t have that," cried Flitwick and Minerva nodded vigorously.

Snape stood no chance. McGonagall transfigured a fork into a mistletoe and Flitwick sent it hovering over the potions master´s head.

"Be our guest, Pomona," he chuckled.

The herbologist approached the potions master clumsily and the latter would still have made it to safety, hadn´t Dumbledore chosen to take advantage of the situation. When the old wizard let go of the shocked potions master, Pomona took over and then there was no escape. All Snape could do, was have a big glass of schnaps afterwards to get rid of the bad taste.

Again, the advent calendar proved unbeatable in providing what Snape needed. On Friday, 21st, the potions master found a vial of hangover potion very late in the evening.


	22. 22

**December 22****nd**

The morning was hectic. Snape and the other heads of houses were on duty at breakfast. Most of the students were already dressed in their travelling cloaks. After a short meal, the potions master worked half an hour shooing his Slytherins out of the castle to the waiting carriages. The boys and girls kept running back for some forgotten items and not even Severus Snape had it in him to send a tearstained first year back outside when he or she claimed "but it is the present for my grandmother".

The heads of houses ran to and fro, trying to get their charges on the train in time, all the while the headmaster stood by the front doors with a beatific smile (Could it be that he had nicked some of the paxmundi? Snape made a mental note to check his stock and security spells.) and wished the youths a Merry Christmas when they passed him.

Then they were gone.

The castle was quiet as only a handful of students and a couple of teachers (the heads of houses, the headmaster and Trelawney, the old bat) had chosen to stay over the holidays.

Dumbledore made everybody sit at one table for lunch. Snape asked himself why he hadn´t been allowed a vacation, when only Malfoy, the Golden Gryffindors and two Hufflepuff first-years were present. The headmaster couldn´t really think that they would actually need one teacher per student to maintain discipline.

The food was delicious, but as they were so few, the headmaster had ordered only two dishes per course to choose from. The potions master had just helped himself to mousse au chocolat for dessert, when the old man dropped the bomb.

"I had an inspiration last night," he started. The teachers stooped in a futile attempt to become invisible, while the students payed close attention. "Your parents must be very sad that they can´t spend Christmas with you." – Potter snorted – "So we will send them a little present to comfort them. They will enjoy something personal and therefore you will all make something nice for Mum and Dad, or in your case Harry, Auntie and Uncle." Potter snorted again. "Your teachers will gladly help you."

That said Dumbledore got up and left the Hall, humming merrily.

"Well," said Snape, "as I´m rather bad at handicraft, I´ll try to stay out of the way." He got up.

"Oh no, you aren´t!" cried McGonagall. "We´re in this together! Don´t you dare sneak away!"

"What do you expect us to do?" growled Snape, "hold each other´s hand while one of us supervises the whole thing?"

"We have to find something where everybody can help," Flitwick pointed out.

"Oh great," sneered the potions teacher, "and what would it be where you need five teachers? Are you planning to send them the Taj Mahal?"

"You´re not being helpful, Severus," Sprout pointed out.

"Something bad is going to happen!" Trelawney informed them in a hushed voice.

"At my muggle kindergarten we made flowerpots," said Hermione Granger.

"I´m not a gardener!" shouted the youngest head of house angrily.

"But I am!" smiled Sprout.

"Hmm," mused McGonagall, "I could show the kids how to transfigure flowerpots from loo rolls."

"And I can help them to plant a poinsettia. That will look nice," said Sprout. "Severus you could whip up a fertilizer."

Snape nodded.

Flitwick beamed. "And I will show them how to charm the pot to play a Christmas carol when the plant is watered. Sibyl, do you have an idea? Can you provide a little prediction for the parents to discover?"

Snape thought this wasn´t such a good idea. How would parents feel if they got a poinsettia, which predicted their early and painful deaths?

"The inner eye can´t be used for absentee diagnosis!" Trelawney was scandalized. "I´ll help with the giftwrapping."

It was agreed that Snape should brew with Malfoy, as they both were Slytherins. The potions master was fine with the decision as the blond was a decent brewer. It turned out that the boy was not only that, but also quite pleasant company when he didn´t try to show off in front of his friends. They even had a nice conversation about the benefit of knowledge about muggle ways for post-school engagements. It seemed that Malfoy senior had mentioned the gingerbread incident in a letter.

The present making took all afternoon. The last owl took off seconds before dinner was served. The students seemed to have enjoyed the activity, so every teacher was given a poinsettia pot, too. Snape´s pot was pitch black which he found very thoughtful.

Later that evening he put the pot on his bedside table. He only then remembered that he hadn´t yet opened his advent calendar. In it was a torch, which provided sunlight. The potions master cast a hovering spell and arranged the torch above his new potplant.

"Don´t be afraid, little flower," he said to the poinsettia. "The dungeons aren´t as dark as some people believe." He gave the plant a drop of fertilizer and a bit of water. The pot played ´Jingle Bells´ and the poinsettia conducted with its leaves.


	23. 23

**December 23****rd**

Snape made Dotty water the poinsettia while he had breakfast in bed. He enjoyed the pot´s little tune and sipped his coffee. After he had finished his buttered toast with honey, he reached for the advent calendar. There, on the lid, was a large number twenty-three. Amazing, how Advent had flown by. The potions master opened the green box and wondered.

What was that?

In the box lay a bent piece of sheet steel. Cautious not to cut his fingers on the edges, Snape lifted the item out of the advent calendar. What an enigmatic gift!

A little later Dotty popped into existance to get the empty dishes.

"Oh! It´s beautiful!" cried the small elf and then hid her mouth behind her hands. The tiny creature stared at the potions master in shock. She had spoken up without being asked!

The wizard tried to make a friendly face. "Do you know what that is?" he asked.

"Of course," piped the elf excitedly. "It´s a pastry cutter! A beautiful one! See," she reverently turned the piece of metall in Snape´s hand, "it´s a snake!"

Now that he knew, Snape saw it, too. It was a pastry cutter in the form of a snake. For a moment he thought of making some snake-biscuits to scare the students, but then providing biscuits for the brats would damage his reputation, so it was out of question.

The potions master had just finished his morning shower and was pacing his living room, pastry cutter in hand, wondering whether he should actually make some cookies for himself, when he felt a slight tingling in his left forearm.

Just great.

This time he didn´t apparate into a kitchen. No, it was a small ballroom. There was a buffet at one side, a string quartett was playing and a crowd of deatheaters was greeting one another in hushed tones.

"My dear friends!" the voice of the Dark Lord carried over the mumbling, and the music and talk stopped. "Thank you for coming here today!"

Snape had to supress a snort. As if any of them had had a choice.

"Welcome to your Lord´s Christmas Party," continued the evil wizard, oblivious to the potions master´s musings. "I scheduled the event early to give your dear brother Severus an opportunity to participate. He, who has been sticking to his post faithfully for nearly two decades, has been missing the party year after year. But today he´s in our midst!"

Snape did some quick thinking and conjured some gift-wrapping in his pocket, which was a quite risky maneuvre. His wand was in his right pocket and the gift paper was needed in the left! Luckily, nothing important got in the spell´s way.

"My Lord," he said as he stepped nearer to the red-eyed man, "you honour me beyond what your humble servant deserves! May I ask another favour and be given permission to present you my meek Christmas gift?" He hung his head in submission and awaited Lord Voldemort´s consent.

"A Christmas gift?" asked the latter. "How can you have a Christmas gift for me, when you didn´t know about the party?"

"How could I buy a present for anybody, if I hadn´t bought one for my Lord first?" Snape asked softly.

"Severus!" hissed the Dark Lord, "you´re surpassing the normal service again! Your devotion should be inspiring for your fellow deatheaters! You may present me your gift!"

"Thank you, my Lord!" Snape bowed and handed Voldemort the quickly wrapped pastry cutter.

The snakelike wizard unwrapped the present and turned it in his hand. "It´s beautiful!" he cried. "And look, how lucky we are that I scheduled this party early! Lucius, Bella, tomorrow we´ll bake Slytherin Snakes."

Snape wondered how the Dark Lord knew about pastry cutters and enjoyed Lucius and Bella´s sour expressions.

The rest of the day was spent with delicious food, pleasant conversation and a bit of dance (a waltz with Narcissa Malfoy and a tango with Bellatrix Lestrange). At the end of the party, the Dark Lord gave every guest a small parcel, wrapped in gaudy paper. Snape recognized the knot. So the Lord had been practicing.

Bellatrix Lestrange got a whip and her husband blushed when she cracked it.

Lucius Malfoy got a peacock quill.

Severus Snape found a pair of handcuffs covered in pink fur in his box. Yes, these were nice. And speaking of whips, he had to remember to ask Dumbledore to give his back.


	24. 24

**December 24****th**

The teachers tossed at breakfast who was to proctor the brats. It was agreed that one teacher could easily do it alone, if the students spent the day as a group. Snape was lucky in the toss for the morning shift, but he lost the second toss and therefore was responsible of the brats in the afternoon.

He spent the morning brewing some more paxmundi. His fellow potioneers were going to ask for samples once his article in Potions Weekly was published. While he was stirring the cauldron, he thought about what to do with the students after lunch and decided to shoo them outside. There was not much mischief you could come up with on a snow-covered lawn.

Malfoy sneered. "You don´t really expect me to go out in the cold, do you?" He glared at Snape and the other students in turn. It was obvious that he despised the company as much as the weather. "Father will hear of this!"

The potions master bit back a comment that his father was too occupied with baking Slytherin Snakes to care and gave the boy his best death glare.

"You will have a snowball fight," Snape explained. "The first-years don´t know any warming charms and have to keep moving in order to stay warm. Malfoy, Potter, Olson, you are one team. The winner will get warm cocoa when we go back inside."

The tiny Hufflepuff girl ducked as her teammates glared at each other. Weasley, the Granger girl and the Abbot boy put together their heads and started planning a strategy. Well, let Potter and Malfoy learn the hard way that emotions weren´t helpful in a battle. Snape was content with himself. He had turned a wasted afternoon into a lesson for the supposed-to-be saviour of the wizarding world.

The W.A.G. team advanced on the M.O.P. group. They threw snow balls and soon all M.O.P.s were spitting snow, but the W.A.G.s didn´t grant them a break and continued their attack.

"See what you got us into," Malfoy shouted at Potter at the top of his voice. "You and your stupid animosity."

"Animosity? Who´s being an arrogant git here?" Potter retaliated with equal volume. "Now stop whining and strike back." He picked up some snow to make a ball.

"I´m not whining!" Malfoy shouted back.

Potter dropped his snowball. "Oh, are you not? ´I´m not going to go outside! I will tell my Daddy!´" Snape had to admit that Potter did an excellent imitation of Malfoy´s earlier complaint. The effect was spoiled by a snowball hitting Potter in the face.

Malfoy laughed. "Good one, Granger!" He giggled like mad.

"Stop that!" cried tiny Begonia Olson. "I want cocoa."

"You´re finding this funny?" Potter shouted. His face was crimson with anger. "Let´s see how you find snow in your own face!" He lunged at the blond and soon the two seventh years were rolling in the snow.

Snape let them fight for a while before he restored order.

After dinner, he opened his advent calendar. In it was a Christmas cracker. He hated those. But then, so far all the gifts he had gotten from the calendar had been good, so maybe this one wasn´t so bad either. The potions master grabbed the ends of the cracker and tugged.

It wouldn´t open. Instead red writing appeared on the offending object. ´I work only with a friend´, it said.

With a sigh the potions master went to the floo and called Dumbledore, as the headmaster – crazy and annoying as he might be – was the closest to a friend he had.

"Severus," beamed the headmaster, "how may I be of assistance?"

The younger wizard offered one end of the cracker. "It won´t open for me alone."

They both tugged and the cracker exploded. First, the air was full of glittering silver stars and Snape couldn´t see anything. But as the glittering stopped, he saw a Christmas tree standing in the corner and several parcels lying beneath it.

"Wow! Impressive!" cried the headmaster. "Where did you get it, Severus?"

"It was in my advent calendar."

"Advent calendar? May I see it?"

Snape agreed with a curt nod and went to fetch the box.

"I have heard of these," the headmaster said in an awe-hushed voice as he turned the small box in his hands, "but I never thought I´d live to see one. Where did you meet him?"

"Whom?" Snape asked, puzzled.

"Well, Santa!" Dumbledore cried as if explaining the obvious.

Santa? The old man couldn´t be serious. But then the man who had sold him the calendar had had a beard like Dumbledore´s and his voice had been full and deep, like legend said Santa´s was.

"Diagon Alley." Snape cleared his throat. "Firewhisky?"

"Yes, please." Dumbledore sat on the sofa. "I´m glad he chose you, Severus. You´re working so hard all year, you really deserved a treat."

The two men sat for hours, sipping the strong liquor. Snape told what he had found in his calendar box and Dumbledore oohed, aaahed and giggled in the right places.

Snape´s Christmas tree glittered.

It was a peaceful night.

A very Merry Christmas to all my readers! May your holidays be filled with peace and fun.

:-)Auriga


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